Riffs That Ruin (Survival Records #2)

33. Tristan

T he audience remains silent as the song-stealing artist sings on stage. I was fucking flabbergasted when I heard her sing it at the last show, and I wasn’t the only one. The video of Raina and the guys building the layers of the song was already viral. Shit, all the videos they’ve posted have millions of views.

Everyone is loving seeing the inside view of who Raina is and what her life looks like. It’s a good pairing with the videos I’ve been making sharing our past. Almost as if we strategized and came up with the plan together.

The awful sound of Carmen’s voice dies out, and she gives an overly fake thank you to the audience. Obviously, not everyone has social media accounts on every platform, so there’s a few people who didn’t get the memo. It’s glaringly obvious that most people are purposefully icing her out.

The cunt deserves so much worse, but for now, this is what the fans are doing to protect Raina’s music.

I guess that’s not fair of me to say. There’s a chance she doesn’t know the song was stolen, but it’s doubtful.

Carmen stumbles as she exits the stage, and that’s when the booing starts. I’m surrounded by people who make the displeased sound, sending her rushing even faster. The teen had dreams of hitting it big and thought using my girl’s songs would get her there faster, but she’s getting an epic slap back.

From the first moment I met her… I knew I didn’t like her. Nothing she does can change my mind either. Sometimes you get a feeling that someone isn’t a good person, and it turns out to be true. I never ignore that sensation in my gut. Although I suppose it’s not foolproof, since I completely misread Raina’s uncle.

Nerves send my heart into a throbbing rhythm. Tonight might be the night. Last show was amazing. I almost cried when I saw her on stage. So close, yet so far away. I wanted nothing more than to jump up there and swing her into my arms.

Instead, I hung back. I didn’t want to throw Raina off even more when I could see she was reeling from the devastation of hearing her song coming out of the mouth of someone who burned bridges from the moment they met.

Not only that, but she was claiming it was hers.

What I’m wondering is if anyone knew about Raina’s video showing them creating the music from the ground up. Would they have exposed themselves if they knew the target audience would know about the thievery so quickly? Was it their plan to make Raina sound crazy if she chose to object to the plagiarism?

“Oh my god. You’re Tristan!” A teen with a huge smile stands in front of me. She holds up her sign, practically shoving it in my face to make sure I see it. I love Raina! is printed in large bubble letters across the expanse, then below it in smaller letters is #TeamTristan .

She doesn’t wait for me to confirm or deny; instead, she bulldozes on. “Can you sign my board? I hope you get to see Raina tonight. I’ll have to tell everyone I pass that you’re here. We’ll help her realize you’re waiting for her!”

Is this the kind of fame Raina deals with everywhere she goes? No wonder she barely left the beach house. A Sharpie is thrust toward me, demanding my signature before I’ve even said yes.

Entitled little shit.

Not that I wouldn’t‘ve said yes, there’s simply a lack of respect in not waiting for it. I grab the marker and take off the cap, signing my name next to the hashtag.

“Thanks, bye!” She twirls around and leaves before I’ve even said one word to her. Will she regret that later, or even remember the interaction correctly? I bet her memory will fill in responses from me…

Fucking fame.

I’ve only had a taste of it, yet I understand why Raina has tried to avoid being in the public eye. It’s not something you can truly understand unless you experience it firsthand.

I’ll take it though if it means having her by my side.

The roadies finish changing the stage over and the crowd roars their cheers into the air. “Raina! Raina! Raina!”

I only got to experience one show as her lead guitarist, but the high you get from hearing that sound summoning you to the stage is something you never forget. Even standing here now, I sense the energy swirling around me, my fingers itching to grab an instrument.

Sharp pain lances through my ribs when someone bumps into me in their rush to find their seats. Mine is at the top of the auditorium. I’m not sure how long it will take me to actually get in contact with any of the band, so I grabbed the cheapest tickets I could find.

Hopefully, I get to stand in the lower deck hallway long enough to attempt getting to Raina. I shouldn’t attempt jumping the rails to get to the stage with my broken ribs, but it’s looking like my best chance right now. I want to wait till the end of her show, though. No need to ruin it for everyone else who wants to see her perform.

Keaton steps onto the stage first, his drumsticks held tightly in his hands, his face a serious mask of calmness, though I catch the way he looks at Darius…

The man who took my spot in the band. The videos of Raina and my best friends have been posted from his account, which can only mean it was his idea. I’m not sure if I should hate him for existing or if I should be grateful for encouraging my girl to flip the script.

As Darius struts onto the stage, his guitar slung low on his hip, the crowd goes wild. It’s not just the team Darius crowd either. He’s a natural showman, soaking in their adoration. He flashes a charismatic smile, one that’s as rehearsed as it is captivating, but the tightness at the corners of his eyes reveals a hint of something darker. I grind my teeth at the sight of him with Raina’s band. The band that was once mine.

Blake and Nash join them, the latter with a hint of anger in his eyes. His joyful smile is a mask to the audience; only someone who knows him as well as I do would know the truth he’s hiding. Although, I can’t know for sure what he’s so mad at. Is he pissed that I’m missing? Does it have to do with Darius and our woman fake dating—I can only hope that’s the case. I can’t face a world where I’ve lost my chance with her. Or maybe it’s at the fact some plagiarizing cunt is hurting the love of my life?

Anticipation swells through the audience as Keaton perches on his drum stool. He raises his sticks in the air and the crowd quiets, a palpable tension settling over the packed venue. With a swift downward motion, the first beats of their opening song reverberate throughout the stadium.

“Excuse me, sir, you need to find your seat. Can I please see your ticket?” A woman dressed in a bright yellow venue shirt asks, holding out her hand to see my seat assignment.

I ignore her, raising my hand to wave at a group of girls who have spotted me and are waving. It gives me the perfect cover that they’re the group of friends I’m here with. Striding forward, I leave the woman behind me and seek a new place to hide that isn’t my actual designated spot.

Finding an empty seat at the edge of a row, I slip into it, knowing I probably won’t be able to stay here for long.

My gaze focuses forward once again, right in time as she appears.

Raina steps onto the stage like she owns it, her figure bathed in a pool of radiant light. She’s in a sparkly ensemble that catches every beam cast upon it, making her shine like a star against the sprawling darkness behind her, beads swishing back and forth on her legs, emphasizing the sway of her hips. Her hair cascades down her shoulders and her lips are an alluring shade of passion red.

Fuck, I miss those lips.

The crowd erupts into hysteria as she smiles, sending shockwaves of adoration into their hearts. Her gaze sweeps over her fans, and I see her face soften, her eyes sparkle with gratitude and love. It’s not something I’ve seen in a long time.

She’s been so secluded from her fans, but that’s been changing lately. Videos have surfaced of her and Darius giving out autographs as she leaves venues. Then there’s the meet and greets where she spends one-on-one time with a select few fans. I freaking almost made the list at the last signing. If only I got in line a little earlier.

Something also tells me she saw the show of support, her fans refusing to support the stolen lyrics.

From here, sitting at the sidelines, all I can do is watch as she takes over the show—the arena, no, the entire world revolving around her lone, petite figure.

As soon as Raina’s singing floats in the air around me, I can’t help but lose myself in her voice. It’s like honeyed sunshine with a hint of soul all wrapped up in one delightful package—it’s unmistakably Raina.

She always starts her shows with a song we wrote together, telling interviewers it’s her way of holding on to her roots, but I think it’s secretly been a love note to me. A cry for me to come back to her that I never heard with my own pain clouding my judgment. One more thing to regret.

When I hear the words come out of her, I know that no one else could deliver those lyrics just like she does. It’s gut-wrenching and beautiful all at once. Each and every song of hers is like that. Why the fucktard that is her uncle thinks he can steal any of her songs and give it to another artist is beyond me. It has to be a joke.

My heart soars as I watch her dancing, so freaking close yet so far away. I always knew Raina would be a dream on stage.

She goes through song after song, working through her set list, a costume change here and there. With each one that passes by, my nerves build, knowing I’m getting closer to my chance. If I miss this one, then I’ll have to wait until her show in Atlanta. I don’t want to add any more days of not seeing her to my already too long list.

“I have time for a few more songs. Is there anything you want to hear?” she teases the crowd. I know from the first show that the song has already been picked ahead of time, but the audience enjoys thinking she picked the name from someone screaming it.

This time, though, instead of a bunch of noisy screaming, everyone chants the same word. “Ruin! Ruin! Ruin!”

She gives an unsure smile to her fans before glancing at each of my best friends before landing on Darius, seeking an answer as to why everyone is screaming the same title when she doesn’t have a song by that name.

Darius steps closer and whispers in her ear so the microphone doesn’t pick it up. A slight blush tints her cheeks before her eyes go wide at whatever he said. It’s easy to see why fans assumed they were dating.

“Ah, I see,” she remarks. She scans the crowd, then turns around to face the band. “Apparently, the Storm Chasers helped us name one of our new songs.”

From here I can see Nash’s smile and Blake asking her something. “The first one we did. Sounds fitting, doesn’t it?” Keaton gives her an upbeat rhythm of approval. “Should we do it?” she whispers like it’s a secret, but the microphone picks it up clear as day.

This time, Darius, Nash, and Blake play the first several chords of the song in unison like they rehearsed it. Raina turns to face the audience, her smile like the sun. “My manager and lawyer might not like this idea, but they haven’t given me any instructions otherwise…” She pauses, seeming to think about it for a moment. “I mean, you all went through the trouble of helping me name it. It’s only right if I sing it for you, don’t you think?”

She waits for the screams to calm before resting a hand on her hip in a saucy pose. “This song doesn’t have a choreography. You still want to hear it?”

What a little tease. Of course they want to hear it.

A small laugh falls out of her like she’s actually having a lot of fun. It’s an intoxicating sound. Something I’ve been dying to hear since I woke up in the hospital bed.

“Can someone get me a wireless?” she asks, walking toward the side of the stage. A roadie comes running out with the bedazzled microphone she used earlier and takes the headset with him.

Raina looks at the microphone with a hint of disdain, then at the sparkly outfit she’s wearing. “Don’t mind all the glitter. It doesn’t really fit with the song, does it?”

Darius bumps off his leather jacket he’s wearing—come on! The dude even stole my style—and drapes it over her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

Since she’s now using the wireless mic, you can’t hear her thank him, but it’s easy enough to read her lips.

She brings the mic up and feeds me another one of those laughs I can’t get enough of. “Here you go, the first ever live performance of Ruin.” She signals to Keaton to get them started, and the rock sounds of her new song fill the stadium.

From the first fucking word, you can tell she’s the one who wrote the lyrics. There’s too much passion there, something sorely missing from Carmen’s pop version.

Anyone who hears the two side by side could pick the author. The pop version sounds wrong, plain and simple, especially without the code we came up with back when we were kids. It’s not something that’s hard to crack, not now that Raina spilled the tea, but had all the vital words been changed, sure, I could see it passing as a party anthem.

By the time Raina reaches the chorus, her spellbinding effect on the audience is worn off enough for people to start singing along. The video of them singing it hasn’t been out long at all, yet there’re already fans who have every single word memorized.

My girl closes her eyes and sings her pretty little heart out, spilling her pain into the microphone and sharing it with everyone here. A song about how her dreams were ruined by the reality of the harsher side of life. How drugs ruined her connection to feeling emotions. How her trust was ruined by betrayal. How her love was ruined by rejection.

She doesn’t use the word ruin once in that song, but it’s the perfect title for it.

The words wash over me until her final note is lost in the cacophony of applause and screaming of adoring fans. Her smile is wobbly, and she wipes a tear that threatens to fall down her perfectly made face.

“Thank you, everyone, for loving my music so fiercely. I adore each and every one of you, you mean the world to me.” She waves with both hands as she moves to walk off the stage, the emotions of the song taking more out of her than she probably expected. I know for certain she wasn’t planning on singing it tonight.

It took her off guard. Probably in a good way, but still.

I feel my moment slipping out of my hands and dash for the stage. So many people are standing out of their seats, crowding into the walkway as they sang along, that I have to elbow my way through, my ribs screaming at me with every jostle. I should’ve sat closer, but I didn’t want to draw the attention of the seat attendants.

“Excuse me. Coming through. Please move.” Each person I have to get by scowls at me, some recognize me and gladly move, the others shift a few inches reluctantly. It’s the people who recognize me that start talking to their friends, the news of me being here rippling through the crowd.

Chants of her name have already started before she’s even crossed halfway to the exit, and I know even if I shouted her name, she’d never be able to hear me. I get closer to the railings keeping people from reaching the stage, but she crosses into the darkness of the edges.

Despair grips me, and tears prickle behind my eyes. Desperately, I search the stage for my friends, hoping I can catch one of them, but their backs are already to me as they follow my girl.

Gripping the railing, I do my best to jump over it, but my injuries are too great. Agony rips through me as the movement shifts my ribs in the wrong fucking way, making me nearly crumple to the ground.

I desperately try to catch my breath that was somehow stolen when I hear my name. It’s a slow transition from the fans screaming Raina’s name until they’re using mine.

Her fans are trying to get her back on stage for me . They want her to know I’m here.

Fucking #TeamTristan for the win.

My gaze fixates on the spot where I saw everyone disappear and hope to every rock god dead or alive that they come back.